


Four Letter Words

by InvaderHam



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, like this is SUPER fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvaderHam/pseuds/InvaderHam
Summary: Traumatized Demons love him! Local Angel helps serpentine boyfriend handle positive affermation with this one weird vocabulary trick!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Four Letter Words

The front of Aziraphale’s bookshop is about as deep into the store as most ‘customers’ (if one wants to use this word to describe Aziraphale’s relationship with the humans who naively think they can purchase his books) venture. Most are put off by the unpleasant smells of dampness and moss and rotting wood, as well as by Mr. Fell’s thinly veiled disdain for them. And therefore, they don’t tend to browse the store for more than a few minutes. A few are persistent enough to try and check the backroom - which they assume must be dingier and more foul-smelling than the front. But they couldn’t be more wrong.

Aziraphale’s backroom is warm and welcoming, and smells of cinnamon and dried flowers and the pleasant scent of old paper. After all, very few costumers make it the backroom. It serves more as Aziraphale's personal working and living space, and a place for the Angel to spend time with his beloved serpent. And right now, the two of them were sitting on the worn coach in the corner of the backroom, quietly enjoying each other's company during a lull in their conversation (which has spun from idle reminiscing about a lovely tavern that they visited sometime around 1681 – although they couldn't agree on whether it was in Spain or France – to Crowley prodding Aziraphale about his total misunderstanding of what Twitter is.) Aziraphale’s rested his head in the lap of his aforementioned beloved serpent, shifting a bit to try and make himself more comfortable.

Crowley tangled his long fingers in Aziraphale’s hair, the Angel letting out an indulgent little hum in response to the touch. It was such a warm sound, and Crowley soaked it all in. Crowley had an Angel in his lap, it was dizzying to think about, really. Aziraphale was a being of Holy Light and Divine Fire and Righteous Judgement and all of that stuff, and now this literally holy Angel was sitting in his lap. This literally holy Angel had decided that Crowley’s lap was the place where he felt safe and happy. It was wonderful and almost felt… unreal.

Crowley stroked his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls one last time before the Angel slowly raised his head, trying to reach out for the cup of cocoa on the coffee table while exerting as little effort as possible. Crowley, almost on instinct, swiftly grabbed it for him. Handed it to Aziraphale, miraculously warm.

It was a small gesture, minuscule really, no big deal. A tiny piece of a mosaic of love made from countless similar tiny gestures. But it still made Aziraphale smile brightly, beautifully “Oh, thank you, my dearest,” he said “That's so nice of you. You’re ever so kind-“

Nice. Kind.

“Don’t, don’t call me that…” Crowley said, facing away to stare at the walls. Even now, the words felt like a drop of Holy Water on the soles of his feet, climbing way too fast up his body to burn him entirely. He hated it, but more than that, he hated how much he hated it. Hated how he pulled away from Aziraphale, how he grimaced at him. “You can’t say that, you know how I feel about FOUR-LETTER WORDS!” He snarled, but he hardly felt like a demon letting out a hellish snarl. He felt like a stupid whiny child pushing away the best thing that had ever happened to him. He settled farther and farther away from Aziraphale on the couch to the point where he was barely balancing on its edge, folding his limbs on himself as if he was afraid of what they would do.

Aziraphale seemed momentarily confused by this development, before settling on soft curiosity, his eyes large and sad. “Oh,” he simply said “I’m ever so sorry, dearest. I suppose I just…” Aziraphale tried to reach his hand over to Crowley, who flinched. “Well, I’m supposed I’m just sorry, Crowley.”

“Don’t sssssay SSSSORRY!” Crowley hissed, it was ridiculous, he was ridiculous. He was the one acting like a fool and ruining their day and Aziraphale was the one who had to say sorry?!

Suppose it's just in the nature of a demon to go ahead and ruin a good thing.

For a moment, there was nothing but suffocating silence in the usually pleasant backroom. Then, Aziraphale’s face suddenly brightened up “Well, you know, my serpent,” he said, “sweet is five letters!”

It took a moment for Crowley to process what Aziraphale just said, Crowley didn't say anything, but he could feel how the lump up his throat started to disappear and his muscles started to relax.

Aziraphale seemed to notice it, he was wringing his hands nervously but his smile widened. “Oh, and ‘affectionate’ is 12 letters!” He started to slowly move towards Crowley’s corner of the coach. “And ‘wonderful’ and ‘attentive’ are both nine, ‘thoughtful’ is ten, ‘gracious’ is eight…”

“...Angel…” Crowley said softly, that was all he could say.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his, rubbing small circles in it with his thumb. “‘Considerate’ is eleven, ‘tender’ is six,”. Then he moved his hand to stroke Crowley’s cheek and the demon felt himself relax into his touch. “‘Loving’ is also six, ‘beloved’ is- “

“-Seven” Crowley interjected, soaking in the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand even more. Slowly and clumsily he climbed to sit on his lap “I think you’re running out of words, Angel.”

“Well,” Aziraphale huffed pridefully, pouring in a clearly exaggerated manner, “I believe I made my point clear regardless.”

“You know, you’re a smug lil’ bastard when you want to be,” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale’s face stretched into a ridiculous smile “oh my, dearest, you flatter me.”


End file.
